


of many blisses to uncover (a loss painted white)

by RyDyKG



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: <- I hope I can do that part well, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Creepy Fluff, Dark, Eventual Happy Ending, Fucked Up, Gen, George is equally fucked up, I'm Sorry, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, M/M, No Sex, Non-Consensual Touching, Original Mythology, The Author Regrets Everything, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unhealthy Relationships, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Villain GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Worldbuilding, forced family, problematic shippers pls dni, read the tags, saying this again: dream is fucked up, tommy and fundy are not having a good time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:15:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyDyKG/pseuds/RyDyKG
Summary: Both Fundy and Tommy don’t want to be here. Neither of them are on particularly good terms with each other, nor with their captors. But if they want to get out of Dream and George’s possessive grasps, they’re gonna need to work together to get out before they get blinded by their captors’ affections.(If any creators state that they are uncomfortable with this in any way, I will take this down. Also, there are no romance between Tommy and anyone.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy/GeorgeNotFound, Floris | Fundy/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 127
Kudos: 655





	1. of many blisses to uncover

**Author's Note:**

> title from Theseus by Patrick Wolf
> 
> tfw you’re supposed to be working on like 3 other fics but then you didn’t have motivation to work on any of them so you just straight up wrote another one instead. i wrote this in an hour give me a break
> 
> this is not a good fic. the relationship between tommy and dream is completely platonic, and very unhealthy. the relationship between fundy & dream (and maybe george) is maybe-romantic, but also unhealthy. dream has a fucked up sense of morals aha. usually I don’t write stuff like this but y’know I’m feelin a lil spicy nowadays
> 
> this takes place vaguely after the last fight between dream & tommy + tubbo btw
> 
> if any creators state that they are uncomfortable with this in any way, I will take this down.

The moment Tommy wakes up, he immediately knows that something is wrong.

For one, he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to be dead. The battle with Dream had been fatal for him. At least, he thinks it had been; he does remember the way he bled out, after all, no matter how sick it makes him.

But as he tests out his limbs, moving his fingers one by one, and feeling his heartbeat in his chest, he knows he’s alive. But how?

For another, he’s pretty sure that he isn’t anywhere near the Greater Dream SMP now.

He’s lying on a bed made of cotton and silk. The pillows are red, with the blankets being a soft yellow colour. The room is also way too big. 

There are a few bookshelves in a corner of the room, with a green beanbag lying in the middle of them. There’s a desk to the side of the room, and a large brown closet on the opposite side of the room. A soft red rug in the middle of the room is illuminated by the chandelier hanging on top of the ceiling. It looks homely and comfortable, a room fit for a king or a queen, or at the very least a prince or a princess.

It is also undeniably his jail cell.

There are no windows anywhere. There’s two doors in the room, one made of mahogany, and the other a simple birch door. He can only go through the birch door, and even in the bathroom with a big tub that it leads to, there’s no escape routes or windows. Everything in there is trapped within light peace walls and a white flooring.

He can open the mahogany, but it isn’t as if it’s going to help him with anything, not when he gets shocked and pushed back every time he tries to go through it. And he’s tried, multiple times. And with each time, it forces him closer and closer to the bed, so he resorts to just lying on the bed and hoping for something to happen.

“Good to see that you’re awake,” a familiar voice makes his body freeze and tense up. “I was really worried that you wouldn’t be waking up.”

“Dream!” Tommy snarls, sitting up to see Dream by the doorway of the mahogany door. Surprisingly, he isn’t wearing his mask, which means Tommy gets to see his face for the first time. 

“Me,” Dream hums as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Where am I?” Tommy snaps. He tries to move out of the bed, to get his hands on Dream and strangle him or something, but he can’t move.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” Dream drawls, stepping forwards as the blanket covers him, cocooning him in softness and comfort. Despite that, Tommy feels anything but comforted as Dream goes to sit down next to him. “And well, let’s just say that you’re very far away from anyone who would take you away.”

Which means he’s trapped. Fuck. He should’ve run away before his fight with Dream. At least it would’ve been better than what he is facing now.

“It’s okay,” Dream says soothingly, running a hand through his hair, making Tommy hiss. “It isn’t as if you could’ve killed me, but you did your best, and that’s what matters.”

Other rooms? 

“Did you kidnap anyone else?” he snarls, trying to lunge out, but the blanket makes it impossible. “Fucking- you did, didn’t you?!”

“Well, one of those rooms is for Fundy,” Dream says casually, and Tommy grimaces at the loving look in his eyes. “George is making sure he doesn’t move around too much; he’s hurt, you see, and I don’t want him getting more hurt than he needs to be.”

“From you?” Tommy mutters, and Dream’s eyes darken.

“Of course not,” he waves a hand dismissively. “I would never do anything like that to him. He’s too precious for that.”

At those words, Tommy feels a tiny bit of pity for the other. He can’t imagine what it must be like, being the person of affection of a maniac like Dream.

He dismisses that thought from his mind, and scowls at Dream. “Well, what do you want from me? To hold your victory over my head? To taunt me with the discs? Fuck off, asshole.”

“That’s not very nice,” Dream chides, his tone so fatherly it makes Tommy’s skin crawl. “And for the record, I’ve always had big plans for you. You’re a very interesting boy, Tommy.”

“I figured that out,” he mutters, but Dream continues like he hadn’t heard him say anything.

“You see, all these trials I’ve been putting you through? They were tests. I was trying to make sure that you lived up to my expectations, and you did! You persevered even when things seemed bad for you, and that’s a very admirable quality for you to have.” 

Tommy’s blood boils at his words. How _dare_ he have the audacity to play with his and his friends’ lives, making them suffer, all for some stupid game that Dream has decided to play with them. All the wars he’s fought, all the stupid things Dream has forced him to do, all the deaths that happened… were they all just a game to the stupid green bastard?

Dream laughs at his expression.

“Oh, you’re so naive, Tommy,” he coos. Tommy leans away from him, disgusted and hurt. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you the ways soon enough. You’ve grown up so well, and you’ve learned so much… it really does make me miss the old days.”

Dream pulls him into a hug, one that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he struggles. He ignores Tommy’s protests and shouts, simply coping and patting his back. Eventually, Tommy just stops struggling at all. It’s better to not waste his energy.

“You should rest up,” Dream suddenly says, pulling away. “I’ll be back soon, and you have to be awake for your future lessons. There will be signs for you to navigate this place, and your closet will be filled with all the clothes that you’ll need. There’s some books on the shelves for you to read too, if you want to educate yourselves on our politics.”

‘Our’ politics? What the fuck is he trying to say?

“Why?” is the simple question that leaves his mouth. _Why is he doing this? Why does he want to do this? Why is he hugging him? Why does he not care?_

Tommy shudders at the way Dream smirks as he stands up and walks to the door, as if he knows something that Tommy doesn’t.

“Well, I can’t have my heir acting so irrationally, can I?”


	2. just for now I am your fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Persephone by Tamino
> 
> remember what I said about relationships being background? yeah Uhh....
> 
> here I offer some fundynotfound. it is not healthy in any way, however it may seem, and I don’t condone any type of relationship like this. 
> 
> I have sprinkled in a bunch of symbolisms so if you can find them, good on you because I made them pretty damn obvious

“Eat up, love.”

Despite how humiliating it is, Fundy opens up his mouth and quietly lets George spoon feed the pie to him. It tastes sweet, almost too sweet.

He has no idea how long he has been in here. One moment he was just starting a build for one of his projects, and the next, he was in here. Alone, with his ex and his ex’s lover right by his side. 

“Do you want more?” George worries over him. “You haven’t been eating much lately, are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“I’m fine,” Fundy mumbles in response, turning away. He hears George sigh, but he knows he wouldn’t do anything to him.

The thought scares him more than it comforts him.

“Well, would you like to go to the garden?” George offers. “We can have a picnic. Or we could just chill and spend time together. It’ll be fun! You’ve been stuck in this room for way too long, anyways.”

Fundy glances at the cuffs around his hands. Both George and Dream call them bracelets, but he knows better. They’re golden, with blue and green jewels encrusted in them, and loving inscriptions written both on the inner and outer part of them. They are also meant to keep him within the area of the place he’s been kidnapped to.

He looks at George’s eyes, and sees the glint in them. Whether he likes it or not, George will probably drag him over to the garden again.

“Where’s Dream?” Fundy asks quietly, because he needs to know how he should act, and not because he misses him at all.

George takes it as a sign that he’s warming up to them, though, because he smiles softly and takes his hands in his. “Dream is taking care of a few matters. He’ll join us soon, if he has time.”

“Fine,” Fundy relents, if only to save himself from more trouble in the future. “Take me there, then.”

To his surprise, George draws away with a shake of his head. “Not yet, darling,” he says gently. “We have to give you a change of clothes first, otherwise you’ll be too hot under the Sun. Not that you aren’t hot, of course, but you don’t want to be sweaty now, do you?”

Fundy grimaces, tugging the blankets off his body as George opens up his closet and begins choosing an attire for him. Right now, he’s wearing a casual white shirt and blue pants, but he knows he’ll probably be wearing something more flowery soon enough.

After a while, George smiles triumphantly as he hands him a set of clothes. “I can turn around if you want,” he says.

Fundy nods, and George turns away. He looks at the clothes that have been chosen for him, and sighs, before slowly putting them on.

A light green cold-shoulder top replaces his white shirt, and his pants are kicked off in favour of brown capri pants. As much as he hates it, he counts himself lucky that they haven’t decided to be transphobic and force him into feminine clothing like dresses and skirts yet, at least.

George coos as he turns around, and kisses his cheek.

“My pretty foxboy,” he says affectionately, and Fundy forces a smile onto his face as George grabs his wrist and leads him out of his bedroom.

As they walk down the hallway, Fundy spots an open door shutting. George notices, and gently tugs him away.

“Are you lonely, Fundy?” he asks.

Fundy doesn’t look at George, and simply shrugs. “Who did you two bring back this time?”

“Well, it’s more like who Dream brought back,” George laughs lightly. “But you shouldn’t worry about that now, it’ll all work out in the end.”

‘For you or for me?’ Fundy wants to ask, but he stays silent, and they continue their walk to the garden.

The garden is more of a repository for nature than a garden. It’s big, almost a thousand blocks wide on both sides. In fact, if Fundy closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that he’s back outside.

But the walls and the glass ceiling that cage him in prove otherwise. The walls are a light peach colour, and the ceiling is slightly tinted to make sure no one spending a lot of time in the garden will get sunburned.

Carefully, Fundy closes his eyes and lies in the middle of a garden of lilies and larkspurs. He hears a chuckle from George, and feels his eyes on him.

“Well?” he asks, mostly out of instinct than actual want by this point. “Won’t you join me, George?”

“With pleasure,” he hears him purr, and Fundy’s ears twitch as he hears the rustles of flowers besides him. A hand starts to comb through his hair, and though he knows he shouldn’t, he finds himself leaning into the warmth and comfort it brings.

“You’re so pretty, Fundy,” George murmurs. “How did we ever get so lucky to have you?”

‘You didn’t,’ Fundy thinks.

At some point, he finds himself staring absentmindedly at the fishes that swim in one of the many ponds in the garden, as he lies on his belly. He dips his fingers into the waters idly, watching as the fish swim away from his fingers.

“Fundy!” he hears George call out. “Will you come here for a moment?”

Fundy pushes himself up and walks over to George, who is sitting under a jungle tree. He lights up when he sees him, and Fundy hates it that he finds it kind of cute.

“I made a flower crown for you,” George says, offering him the wreath of flowers that he holds in his hands. “Would you let me put it on your head, darling?”

Fundy looks at the flower crown. Roses, crocuses, violets, irises, lilies, and larkspurs are threaded with golden leaves to form a rather pretty crown. He nods.

The flower crown is laid gently on his head. He hears George gasp audibly, and he sees him smile at him in fondness and adoration.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he murmurs gently, lifting up one of Fundy’s hands to kiss it. Fundy flushes red, and doesn’t pull the hand away. “Why don’t we show how pretty you are to Dream, yeah? After he finishes getting our newest ward settled in?”

“Who’s our newest ward?” he finds himself asking as he lets George hold his hand to lead him along, the other gripping him firmly. 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” George winks at him. “And speaking of new people, are you lonely, Fundy?”

Once again, Fundy shrugs. He’s not sure what kind of response he’ll get if he says “yes”, so he stays quiet.

George hums. “Would you like a pet?”

At that, Fundy looks up at him. “A pet?”

“Yeah, a pet!” he says. “We can get one for you if you ask for one. Maybe you’d like a fox? Or a cat? We can get you the cutest one in the whole world.”

It probably says something about his and Dream and George’s relationship, that the first thing about a pet they think to give to him would be one that is ‘cute’ and not ‘strong’ or ‘smart’.

“I would like one,” Fundy responds quietly. George squeezes his hand, and plants a chaste kiss on him.

“Then we’ll get you one,” he replies. “Now come on, love, what would you like for dinner today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, don’t send this to any ccs. i do not condone anything like this.
> 
> can you tell I have never written a relationship before? haha


	3. no, nothing comes quick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Theseus by The Oh Hellos
> 
> hey!! I figured out an update schedule!! I’ll be hoping to update this around once or twice a week, so yeah! pov will shift between tommy & fundy for each chapter, so you can expect all odd numbered chapters to be in tommy’s pov, and all even numbered chapters to be in fundy’s pov
> 
> just to clarify, I’ve already planned out the ending. there will be a happy ending for fundy & tommy, but there’s just gonna be a lot of angst before that. i won’t be romanticising a relationship like fundywasfound’s in here either, because that’s kinda :/// 
> 
> anyways hope you enjoy aha

With nothing better to do, Tommy reads.

After Dream has left, the blankets free him, and he immediately rushes to the door, only to get shocked. So, since escaping clearly isn’t an option right now, he shuffles into the beanbag in the corner, and picks out a book.

He’s tried doing anything else. He’s tried going through the bathroom door to hopefully drown himself and respawn, but the moment he stepped through, he was pushed out. The mahogany door isn’t letting him through either. There’s nothing else he can do, other than sleep, and that just seems like a waste of time when he could easily be working on figuring out what the fuck Dream meant by ‘his heir’.

He’s barely a few pages into one of the books he had randomly picked off the shelf when he starts to get confused. **{Political Swayers and Soothsayers}** by **[Luci3rcia]** is not only confusing, but it talks about weird things like ‘gods’ and ‘court politics’ and ‘betrothals’ that make his head spin. Eventually, he picks off another book instead.

 **{So, You’re New Here—Heir Edition}** with no author name seems like the perfect start.

“‘Introduction’,” Tommy reads out, because it’s not like there’s anyone to mock him for it. “‘So, let’s say you’ve been picked up by a god to become their ‘heir’ or ‘heiress’ or ‘child’. You must naturally be confused and scared, since you’ve just been ‘kidnapped’ — although the term ‘taken away temporarily’ fits better than that. Well, have no fear, because as a god who’s been in your position, I’m writing this book to help all of you young ones learn your place in this weird society of…’ what the fuck is that word?”

Tommy squints at the word. It doesn’t look like it’s even a word, and more like a bunch of scribbles squished in-between normal Common words. He just decides to read ahead.

“‘Whoops, sorry! I forgot that you won’t know the language!’ Oh fuck you, dickhead. ‘The word you just read was, in the best translation to Common possible, Avalon. And the language that the word was written in? Well, surprisingly to you, it isn’t actually called Avalonia or Avalonish, or any other version of those. No, it’s actually called Edenweiss! Fancy, isn’t it?’ Who the _hell_ wrote this?”

Tommy has seen better books written by others, for fucks’ sake. This book — if it could even be called a book — looks like it’s a script for some comedic scene, and it’s not even a _good_ one.

Still, it’s given him more information than the previous book had, so he reluctantly continues on.

“‘Sorry, I tend to get over myself. Well, one thing you should know first, is that gods can’t just give out their name all willy-nilly, but they can give out their titles, or a fake name. So, with that out of the way, my name is Ash, and I am a minor god of storytelling and home. Sure, it may sound weak, but domains like mine are much more stronger than you think!’”

Before Tommy can continue reading on, his door flings open. Immediately, he looks up and slams the book shut, staring wide-eyed at a smug-looking Dream.

“I knew you would’ve picked that one first,” he says smugly, as if he probably wasn’t the one to set up the room in the first place, and choose the books in the bookshelves. “I guess the word ‘guide’ really appeals to you, huh?”

“What the fuck are you saying,” Tommy responds, quickly and sharply. “And what are you even doing here?”

“Well, you must be hungry, aren’t you?” Dream asks, walking closer and making a quick gesture with his hand, telling him to stand up. “And it’s dinner time already.”

“Yeah, because it’s a bit hard to know without any windows to tell me,” Tommy snaps. He stands up, because he’s pretty sure Dream will just tug him upwards, and he wants to minimise as much contact from that bastard as possible. 

“That’s okay, I wasn’t expecting you to be able to tell the time without looking outside that quickly,” the other shrugs, like the bastard he is. Then, he walks forwards, and in a fluid move, closes two bracelets around his wrists.

“Wh- hey!” Tommy splutters, pulling his wrists back to inspect the bracelets. There aren’t any chains on it, but he just knows that they’re meant to be cuffs.

“Like them?” Dream asks. “I made them with you in mind, you know? I’m sure the design can appeal to you.”

His left bracelet is gold, with a circular purple jewel in the middle of it, and a little gladiolus hanging below it like a keychain. His right bracelet is silver, with a circular green jewel in the middle of it, and a little freesia hanging below it like a keychain.

Tommy doesn’t know what the flowers or the colours mean, but he definitely knows what the jewels are representing. His scowl deepens. Dream lets out a laugh.

“Alright, now that that part’s over,” Tommy stiffens upon feeling a hand clap onto his back. “Let’s head to dinner, shall we?”

Tommy doesn’t really get a choice in the matter as he’s led to walk outside, and probably to the dining room. Surprisingly, he doesn’t spot any guards or knights around, and before he can think about what exactly that means, he’s being pushed to continue walking.

The walk to the dining room is awkward and uncomfortable, mostly because Dream keeps his hand on his back throughout the entire time, and doesn’t let him stop to look around. Tommy breathes out a sigh of relief when the apparent doors to the room are in sight, and Dream finally removes his hand from his back.

“Well?” Dream questions. “Head in. Don’t worry, there’s nothing harmful back there.”

Hesitantly, Tommy pushes open the door.

The first thing he notices is the absolute grandness of the room. Servants stand to the side, holding trays and trays of food or drinks. He spots at least three chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. The walls are coloured a creamy gold, and the floor is a deep red that only highlights the room. The table is long and dark, and the chairs look so comfortable and tall that it makes him nervous to even be looking at it.

The second thing he notices is the people sitting at the table. George is sitting next to Fundy, the latter of whom is staring at him in surprise and shock. 

“Fundy, sweetheart,” Dream coos, and Tommy warily follows him as he makes his way to sit down. “You remember Tommy, don’t you?”

Fundy flinches at the words slightly, and Tommy sees both Dream and George’s narrow.

“Sorry, I was just surprised,” Fundy apologises quietly. “Uh, yeah. I do.”

“Great!” Dream smiles. “You’re going to be helping him to get settled in, since me and George have to go to a meeting soon. I’ll leave a few servants with you in case you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks Dream.”

“Anything for you, darling. You look absolutely ravishing today, by the way.”

“Tommy,” George interrupts their conversation — and he’s kind of glad for that, he really didn’t want to listen to anymore of that gooey and mushy love stuff — and stares at him. “Won’t you sit down?”

Tommy looks at the number of chairs around incredulously. 

“You can sit next to me,” Dream says cheerfully, but Tommy shudders at the underlying threat in it. “No need to stay standing up!”

Tommy scrambles onto the chair, noticing that his feet are just hovering a few inches off the ground. He glances at the cutlery in front of him, and winces at just how fancy and how many of them there are.

He looks up, and he notices Fundy still staring at him strangely. George kisses Fundy’s cheek with a murmured compliment, and Fundy’s attention shifts.

‘What the fuck?’ Tommy thinks, because he’s pretty sure that George is Dream’s lover and not Fundy’s, but then again, maybe they just decided to all get into a couple or something. There’s still something wrong with the sight, though, but Tommy pushes that thought to the back to the back of his mind to scan the room for any escape routes.

“Well,” Dream claps his hands, the sound ringing through the room and startling Tommy. “Bring in the food!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes the books will be making a return. yes, So, You’re New Here—Heir Edition will be important to the plot.
> 
> also can you tell that I’m not creative in the slightest? aha


	4. then I’d shut up for the rest of my life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Persephone by Sidney Gish
> 
> there’s a brief mention of drugs in here (and hints to them being mind control/brainwashing drugs) but nothing actually happens. also there’s a paragraph fully in italics, and that’s like a past memory or something like that.
> 
> ahahaaha things are still shit but it’s fine!! mostly!! maybe..!

Dinner for tonight is cooked fish, again. Fundy glances at Tommy every so often, just to make sure that he isn’t trying to do anything stupid, because he doesn’t count on him to have any semblance of patience.

He still can’t believe that Dream kidnapped Tommy, of all people. Then again, with all the talk he had been spewing about him, he’s not wholly surprised.

Still, he suspects that there’ll be a lot of tension, as Tommy glumly and slowly eats the food placed in front of him. Fundy knows it’s not poisoned or drugged, because Dream doesn’t like to do things the ‘easy way’, and George doesn’t have the motivation to actually go and get drugs anyways.

“How is your back, darling?” Dream suddenly asks him gently, and Fundy winces at the reminder of his back.

“It’s- it’s fine,” he murmurs, ducking his head down. “It hurts less now.”

“You’re recovering so well, I’m so proud of you,” Dream smiles at him. “Have you met Tommy properly yet?”

“Don’t be stupid, Dreamie,” George jumps into the conversation with a roll of his eyes. “We spent almost the whole time in the gardens, idiot.”

As George and Dream bicker, Fundy sees Tommy glances around the room. It probably looks like a good time to escape; all the servants have been dismissed, and while the doors are closed, if he can run quick enough, he can possibly run through the hallways to drop Dream and George off his trail.

Fundy knows what he’ll do, and he knows that he won’t succeed. He’s tried the same thing, after all.

“Oh, by the way, Fundy,” he turns to Dream when he calls his name. “Are you busy?”

“Uh, no. I’m- I’m never busy.”

“That’s perfect, then,” Dream seems satisfied, even as he taps Tommy’s shoulder, who shivers at the touch. “Tommy, you know how I said Fundy will be helping you to settle in? That will extend to lessons as well. Once you’re done learning the basics of everything, then I can begin teaching you the more intricate things.”

Fundy is more than happy to just nod along and plan how to teach Tommy to use a coded language to communicate, as well as teach him how to lay low and not get into any trouble, but it seems like Tommy has every intention of doing the opposite of laying low, because he immediately stands up.

“No,” he growls up. “For fucks’ sake, Dream, I’m not going to just play along with whatever bullshit you have going on here. This is-you kidnapped me! You’ve done this once, but I’m smarter than that now. You’re not gonna get in my head so easily this time, bitch.”

“Tommy, sit down and finish your food,” Dream says sternly. “We’ll have a talk about this later.”

“No, you listen to me! I’m not some kind of weird trophy you get to keep for ‘winning the war’ or whatever bullshit you decide to spew!” Tommy snaps, slamming his hands on the table, with the cutlery and the plates shaking as he does so. “This isn’t- I’m not a pet! You can’t just- you’re _sick_ , Dream.”

_“I’m not your treasure,” Fundy spits, trembling with both fear and anger as he stands his ground. “You can’t just decide to be the dragons that lock up the damsel in distress in a tower, as if you ever loved me in the first place. That’s not how this works. This isn’t what a relationship should be!”_

There are times when Tommy can stand up to Dream and or George. There are certain times where, just maybe, with the right words and expressions, the two will cave. This is not one of those times.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Fundy whispers, a pleading tone in his voice, gripping his spoon and fork tightly. Tommy looks back at him in indignation and anger. He feels George tug him into his arms just as Dream stands up.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Tommy,” Dream’s voice has become something lower and darker, now, and Fundy has half a mind to call it a day and head back so he won’t have to see what might happen next. But he knows his presence will probably stop Dream from doing anything worse, so he stays.

“Make me,” Tommy bares his teeth, face made into a snarl, and Fundy knows he’s dug himself into a deeper hole. Guess he won’t be touring Tommy around the castle anytime soon.

“Well if you’re not going to behave, then you should go to your room,” Dream snaps.

Fundy sighs and squeezes his hands together, turning away and keeping his mouth shut as Dream’s eyes flash gold, and Tommy disappears from his seat. Another flash later, and the food disappears alongside. 

He knows the younger would’ve been sent back to his room, but that doesn’t lessen the worry he feels.

They might not be that close, but they are both stuck in the same situation, and he doesn’t want anyone else to make the same mistakes that he’s done.

“That little cretin,” Dream mutters, brows furrowed in anger. “God, why did I think this was a good idea in the first place…”

With another soft sigh, Fundy gets up from his seat to hug him. Dream breathes out quietly, and Fundy feels a soft kiss on his head as Dream hugs him back.

“Calm down, Dream,” Fundy whispers to him. “He’s just getting settled in. He’s in a new environment, of course he’ll be snappish. Give it time.”

“He’s right, Dream,” George comes to back him up, planting a kiss on his forehead as Fundy hugs him tight. “You know how Tommy is.”

A hand comes to brush his hair as Dream nods. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “I do still remember how it was back when Fundy first came along. I guess I shouldn’t have asked too much of him, but then again, he’s supposed to be my heir…”

“He’s a child who’s been under stress for a long time,” Fundy reminds him, ignoring the remark of how he used to be. “And you know what he thinks of you right now.”

“He’ll see the truth eventually,” George says. “Give it time.”

“Yes,” Dream muses. Fundy buries his head further into Dream’s chest, snuggling in, and prays to whatever good being is out there. “I’ll give it time.”


	5. you must be fearless now and follow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Icarus Ascending by Dan Fogelberg
> 
> if I don’t update for a pretty long time, it’s probably because of one of two things: 1) no motivation, or 2) writer’s envy
> 
> warnings: there’s a brief moment where someone hits another. it’s just a harsh smack, nothing too bad. there’s also suggestions and hints of physical retaliation (abuse, basically), but nothing is described or shown.

Tommy doesn’t know how long it has been since he was sent back to his room like he’s a _child_. He threw away the food and had reluctantly slept on the bed, and now he’s snuggled up in the blankets again, the comfort soothing no matter how he hates it.

He still can’t believe that Fundy’s here. And, from the looks of it, dating both Dream and George again. Didn’t he hate them?

Tommy hears the sound of the door opening, and buries himself further into the blankets.

“Rise and shine!” Dream’s voice is cheery. “It’s already past the time that you should be getting up, but then again, I guess you’ve only been here for two days.”

Tommy doesn’t give his words a response. He refuses to. It has nothing to do with the fact that he’s still slightly scared of him from yesterday, of course not.

The blankets are tossed off him, and he lets out a squawk as he’s manhandled to standing up.

“Now that’s not very nice, you shouldn’t be ignoring me,” Dream tuts, frowning at him as he starts to inspect him all over. Tommy feels like a lab rat, with tingles going up his spine as he feels eyes on him, and something wrapping around his body before letting go and he has to hold back from punching the bastard. “And neither was your behaviour during yesterday’s dinner.”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have said shit to you if you hadn’t fucking _kidnapped_ me!” Tommy snarls, sniffing the air as he realises he smells a lot cleaner.

A harsh smack to his arm makes him wince, and when he looks at his arm, he finds the spot already reddening. “I think ‘kidnapped’ is a pretty harsh word. I’d prefer the words ‘take you someplace better’.”

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything remotely good about this shithole.”

“That’s not very nice of you to say, Tommy. Say sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy spits out. He feels his chin being gripped harshly, as he’s forced to look Dream in the eyes. He shivers at the anger he finds in the vividly green eyes.

“I _said_ ,” suddenly, Dream’s voice is so much deeper and darker. “Say sorry.”

Tommy has a feeling that he won’t like what would happen if he doesn’t say sorry. He grits his teeth, and mumbles out an apology. Dream seems satisfied by that, at least, because the grip on his chin is quickly dropped, and he’s handed another set of clothes.

“I’ve researched into study tips,” for someone who literally threatened someone five seconds ago, Dream’s voice is way too jovial. “And I’ve found out that comfortable clothes can help a student study better, so I’ve taken the liberty to get you nice and soft clothes!”

Tommy unfolds the clothes, and he grimaces at what he sees. A pale yellow and white striped sweater, and loose black pants. Way too similar to Wilbur’s style for his own comfort, and definitely not something he would ever wear.

But Dream is looking at him expectantly, so after a brief moment where he forces the other to turn away to take off his current clothes, he puts them on. It doesn’t quite fit him — it’s a bit too loose, in fact — but Dream seems delighted by it.

“You look soft,” he tells him in a sickly sweet tone, the one meant for babies and children whenever they look cute, and Tommy clenches his fists.

“Can we just go to the eating room now or whatever,” he bites out.

Dream hums, and leads him out without a response. Tommy cringes when he feels his hand at his back again, leading him. He looks down at his cuffs, and sees that the two jewels are slightly glowing.

This time, however, Dream doesn’t bring him to the big hall room. Instead, they take more turns than normal, and walk for longer. They end up at a pair of smaller doors, and unlike the big hall room, there are two guards standing outside, on each end.

The guards are decked out in the same outfit that all knights in fairy tales wear. In fact, they’re wearing so much armour that Tommy can’t see an inch of skin anywhere. There’s also a few differences, like the fact that their armour seems to be thinner, and they both have no weapons that are visible.

Dream says something to them in a different language, the supposed words rolling off his tongue easily. It sounds like a mix of English, Enderman noises, and something new entirely. Finally, after a while of talking, the doors are open, and Tommy is pushed inside.

“I’ll be asking Fundy how you’re doing in your classes,” Dream says in a sing-song tone. “So you better behave. Breakfast and lunch will be delivered by hand, and you can ask Fundy for the timetable if you truly want to know. Enjoy!”

And with those words, the doors slam shut. With nowhere to go, Tommy reluctantly makes his way to the only table in the room surrounded by plants and bookshelves, and takes a seat just opposite of Fundy.

The first thing he notices is Fundy’s clothes. There isn’t a hint of the usual stuff that he would normally wear. Instead, it’s another flowery green top and long blue pants — both of which have Dream and George’s colours respectively. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Tommy startles and looks up, meeting Fundy’s apprehensive eyes. “Now are you ready or not?”

“Why the fuck are you here?” Tommy blurts out. “I- you’ve seen what Dream has done, and George is- George has done shit for you! Why are you here?”

“We’re not,” Fundy pauses, shakes his head. “I don’t _want_ to be with them. I didn’t _want_ to be here. They forced me to.”

“They _forced_ you to?” Tommy had never thought either of Dream or George to do something like that. “I- don’t you want to try and escape?”

“‘Escape’,” Fundy repeats, a mocking tone in his voice, as if that’s something that’s impossible. “Believe me, I tried. I have tried escaping, the first few months I was here.”

“The first few months?” Tommy repeats. “But I just saw you- I saw you a week ago!”

“Time moves differently in here,” Fundy says flatly. “I know, because Dream once showed me the messages in his SMP communicator. Maybe it’s only been a few hours or days of my disappearance for everyone else, but here? I’ve been here for _months_ , Tommy, to the point where I’ve stopped counting already. Our friends back in the SMP? They’re not gonna notice anything wrong until _at least_ after a year has passed in here.”

Tommy’s blood runs cold. A _year_? With those two possessive fucking freaks? 

“How did,” his voice cracks in the middle, and he clears his throat. “How did you live with that?”

“I stayed shut after the first two months or so,” Fundy sighs, and his fingers start to drum something out on the book before abruptly stopping. “It was better to go along and save my strength instead of wasting it all on escape attempts.”

“So you just stayed their pretty little doll?”

“What else was there to do but to gather information?” Fundy says, as if that’s a normal thing to say. “I’ve never been someone strong, and both Dream and George could easily overpower me. They _have_ overpowered me. It’s not a fun thing.”

‘Well neither is letting them push you around,’ Tommy thinks, but he doesn’t say it aloud. Instead, he says, “So theoretically, I could just fight them until they decide to toss me down and away.”

“I- no! That’s not what I’m saying!”

“Well it’s a good plan!” he exclaims. “It’s not like you’re giving me shit to work with! You’re being- you’re being all cryptic and mysterious, obviously I’m going to try and grab at whatever could help me get _out_.”

“Don’t you get it?!” Fundy hisses at him, and Tommy’s stricken surprised by the desperation in his eyes. “Dream and George won’t quit on you! Believe me when I say this: they’re a lot more powerful than they pretend to be. If you don’t quit your aggressive ways, or at least cool it down a little, they _will_ strike back, and they won’t be nice about it.”

Tommy can only stare at him. “You- you sound like you’ve experienced it before.”

“Well maybe I have,” Fundy mutters sharply. “Why do you think we’re still talking about this? They’ve got the power to stop us from doing anything, and they really don’t care about your feelings. The only reasons why they haven’t stopped is either because they currently aren’t watching, or they want me to tell you this.”

On instinct, Tommy reaches up to feel the spot where Dream smacked him. It hurts a little less now, but if this is just a taste of what would actually happen…

“So you’re just asking me to submit to their shit?” he questions. “Because I won’t do that. I can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not asking you to submit,” Fundy replies, sounding tired. “I’m asking you to pretend and follow along, because at the very least you’ll get hurt _less_.”

Silence overtakes the room. Tommy shifts in his clothes, only noticing how scarily comfortable they are. Fundy sighs, and leans back.

“Let’s start on learning the pathways around here,” he murmurs. For once, Tommy doesn’t protest, and follows his guide, Fundy’s previous words repeating in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> worst thing about writing is that I have an idea for endings and certain scenes that I currently cannot write because the story hasn’t progressed to that point yet >:( I have so many shitty stuff to put certain characters through but it is not time yet,,,, sighhh
> 
> also!! to clear up what fundy said about dnf ’overpowering’ him, they did not do the bad R to him!! nothing like that happened! there’s an explanation for that in a future chapter, but for now just to clear things up, there have been no R*p* to anyone!!


	6. you’re written, bound and etched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Apollo by Timebelle
> 
> Uhh nothing too bad in here, just a few extra small worldbuilding and filling in some plot holes and possibly creating even more plot holes.
> 
> brief description of someone hitting another near the end, but it’s nothing too bad I promise

Fundy wipes his mouth after finishing breakfast, making sure to do so thoroughly, because George usually doesn’t like him having food bits on his mouth, and he really doesn’t want to give him another reason to coddle him even more.

He’s finished teaching Tommy the layout of the ground floor and the first floor. It had taken him a long while to memorise everything, and by the time they’d finished, it’s already noon. He’d sent the younger to go bring out whatever book of whatever he wants to learn next.

“You can take these away now,” he tells the servant that has been standing by the corner for a long while now. He’s learned not to discuss anything sensitive with servants around, since they’re usually able to report back to Dream and George about what they’ve done. 

The servant bows, places the dirtied plates onto a tray, and heads out. Fundy still feels kind of bad for letting them do everything, even after he’s stayed in this place for months, but Dream enjoys it when his hands are softer, and George apparently doesn’t like seeing him ‘suffer’. That, and they don’t really like treating the servants well.

As he waits for Tommy to return, he spots a shimmer of pink glowing from a book in the far corner. He tries not to make it seem like he sees it, and instead, starts to tap his fingers on the table, seemingly idly. It isn’t morse code, so whichever necessity god is currently spying on him will just think that he’s developed a habit of tapping his fingers.

Actually, come to think of it, it’s probably George. Or at the very least, George is using another god to spy on him.

Tap, ta-dap, tap tap, ta-dap dap-tap.

A part of him wants to teach Tommy the secret codes, but he had only been taught a week later, so he supposes he’d have to hold off for a while. At least until Tommy knows the basics of… well, everything.

“I got it!” he hears a cry from somewhere nearby, and Fundy flinches at the loud sound that Tommy slamming down his book brings.

“I have so many questions for you, big man,” he says, voice happier than ever. Fundy glances at the book.

 **{Of Gods and Their Livings}** is the title of the book. Tommy quickly flips the book to a page, showing a hunching and thin green figure, with shadows spreading from their feet, before turning to another page, this one with a blue glowing figure, holding multiple crowns in the hand-arms that branch off from their body.

“They kind of look like fuckin’ Dream and George, don’t they?” Tommy asks him, putting it in a way that makes it more of a statement than a question.

“Well yeah, they do look a lot like them,” he agrees.

“So hypothetically, Dream and George could be gods,” Tommy says, a hint of triumph in his voice.

Fundy hums, leaning back on his chair. He can’t tell Tommy outright, because Dream and George don’t like people acknowledging their inhumanity, and Dream likes to let people pretend that they have a chance at defeating him.

“Hypothetically,” he says, and doesn’t say any more, no matter how much Tommy asks him about it. Finally, frustratedly, the younger flips to another page, and points to an illustration of multiple eyes floating around a single person.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he scowls. “But fine. Who’s this guy, then?”

“Ah,” he… somewhat recognises the god. He’s heard about him a lot, usually because Dream complains about him. “That’s… that’s Dream XD. He’s… he’s very similar to Dream.”

“Dream has a family?” Tommy sounds so affronted and disbelieving that Fundy can’t help but let a little snicker out.

“Well, not exactly,” he says. “The two of them share a lot of… similarities, so to speak. Dream XD is… let’s just say that he’s a lot more chaotic than Dream.”

“Have you met him before?”

“Of course not, he’s a god,” Fundy says, and once again leaves it at that. He would like to give more information to Tommy, but the pink glow is still there, and he doubts George would take well to him doing so.

It goes on like this for a while, with Tommy flipping to random pages and pointing at the gods, and Fundy describing them as best as possible, before they are interrupted by someone.

“Kind sirs, this servant is humbly apologetic for intruding,” Fundy’s smile disappears as he hears someone else speak. Tommy looks over at the servant in mild curiosity, as he himself turns to see the servant with their head low. 

“Go on,” Fundy says dismissively. From the corner of his eye, he can see Tommy shooting him a look.

“His Grace wants to see you,” the servant says, and Fundy’s heart drops. “Preferably now, if you are free, kind sir. He is waiting at the gardens.”

“Right, okay,” Fundy breathes out. He can do this. It’s a little unexpected, but it’s probably just a check on how he and Tommy are doing.

“Do you know the way back to your room, Tommy?” he asks Tommy, with a subtle jerk of his head towards the cuffs around Tommy’s wrists.

He looks down at them and frowns, before looking back up at him and nodding. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “I’ll be, uh, fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Great!” Fundy responds in false cheeriness. “Sorry to have cut this so short, but I can’t really leave them waiting. See you!”

The gardens are a far walk, but eventually, Fundy arrives. He spots George sitting under an oak tree, softly humming a song.

“Hey, George,” he starts casually. George looks up at him, and his expression brightens.

“Hello, darling,” he coos, beckoning him over with a hand. Fundy walks over to him, and leans into the kiss that George brings him into, until...

“Ow!” Fundy yelps, pulling away, biting his lips as he rubs his arm, which now has a slightly red handprint on it. He hasn’t forgotten how much George’s hits hurt.

“Your breath stinks,” George wrinkles his nose, already handing him a cup from somewhere. Fundy gratefully sips it, making sure to drink all of it before it’s snatched out of his hands.

“Right, yeah, sorry,” Fundy mumbles, rubbing his sore arm with a wince. “Sorry, love, I just… forgot.”

George’s gaze softens, and Fundy finds himself being pulled into an embrace. “I know, sweetheart. It’s alright. I was just calling you over to check on you, but I think you’re a little too stressed. We shouldn’t have given you so much work in the first place. If you’d like, we could teach Tommy ourselves, to save you the work…”

Fundy waits until George has finished his words, before shaking his head. “No, it’s fine, I just…”

‘Quick, think of something,’ his mind screams at him. ‘George likes being in charge. He doesn’t like tantrums, he doesn’t like you showing strength, think, you idiot!’

“I just wanted to prove to you that I could,” Fundy fumbles for words. “That I could actually do things nicely. You and Dream are always so busy with your work, and I didn’t want to stress either of you out any further.”

“Oh, honey,” he feels George kiss his head gently. “Don’t worry, you would never be a bother to us. But if you insist, you can continue teaching Tommy. I know you two were somewhat close, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Fundy nods. “Well, I actually sent him back to his room since I thought you would talk to me for much longer, so I’ll have to go and call him back now…”

“I’ll go get a servant to call him over, it’s okay,” George assures, reluctantly pulling away. “Have fun, Fundy. I have a few other things to get to now, but I love you.”

“Love you too, George.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey hey so george might seem a lil too harsh or irrational but I promise u it’ll all make sense in the end,,,trust me I have (somewhat of) a plan


	7. bend your will unto the task

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Hephaestus - The Hammer of the Gods by The Showdown
> 
> dsmp Big Bang’s sprinto bot my beloved

When Tommy returns to his room, a note lies on his bed. He picks it up, and scowls.

It’s from Dream. Of _course_ it’s from Dream.

**I have things to do, so George will be in charge for now. Don’t give Fundy too much stress, and put the books I’ve given to you to good use. By the time I come back, I expect you to have gotten a basic understanding of everything.**

**I know you’ll wonder about what happened below, and not to fear, everyone is alive. It’s not fun when things go wrong so quickly with no hope, after all. But you know, if you want Tubbo to live, I wouldn’t try escaping. An eye for an eye, after all.**

**You’re a good kid, Tommy. I know you can listen to orders; you’ve listened to them with Wilbur and with Tubbo, after all. Be good for me. I know you can do it. I have a surprise for you when you come back.**

**:)**

His grip on the paper shakes. From anger, from fear, from relief, from just about every emotion there is, really.

Tommy crunches the paper, and throws it against a wall. It falls limply, because it’s normal paper and not some weird mystical shit that Dream probably has, but it only makes him angrier.

With a frustrated yell, he collapses on his bed. He stares at the ceiling, and finds himself thinking, instead of yelling or punching something.

This whole situation reminds him of the stories Wilbur used to tell him. Stories of princesses trapped in marriages they didn’t want all for the sake of, of children forced to fight in a war, and later used for propaganda and to become someone they aren’t, of red-eyed and tear-rimmed teens who had to plaster on a smile in front of an uncaring crowd.

All of them have one thing in common: they were trapped. And now, so is he.

There’s no enderchest around for him to grip his enchanted compass, but _god_ does Tommy wish there is. He thought he was free. But ever since he was kidnapped, it seems like everything just reminds him about his exile. The way Dream has been so comforting yet menacing, the way he’s practically isolated… 

‘No, stop it,’ he reminds himself. ‘Dream is not my friend. Dream is my enemy. He has done this before. He will not do this to me again.’

Deep down, something inside him wonders how long it will take for him to break. Tommy pushes that part of him far, far away and deep, deep down. He can’t just lay around and do nothing. He has to do something, _anything_. He has to figure out how to escape.

His eyes land on a particular book, still on the beanbag. It’s the only book that he can actually read, even if it’s shit, so with a loud and frustrated sigh, he walks over and sits down, and flips to where he stopped last time.

“‘All gods are different. They all have been raised differently, though with vaguely the same morals. For gods like me and probably you, who have been raised below, it’s a little different, but not to worry, because you’ll settle in eventually. But for the gods of Avalon, it’s different. They all have differing personalities, differing opinions, but if there’s one thing that they all share, it’s their possessiveness.’”

The last line sends a shiver down his spine. Yeah, he’s fucking seen their ‘possessiveness’, alright. 

The page ends there, so he flips to the next page, which is apparently a new chapter.

“‘Chapter one, settling in,’” Tommy continues reading. “‘Now, Avalonian gods absolutely love to spoil their partners, heirs and heiresses. Whether you like the grandeur or not, it’s part of the room now, and the gods are usually more than happy to arrange your room to your liking. They’ll be more than happy to make you happy. Of course, there will be restraints from the start, but once you realise that things are much better up here, and you stop trying to run away, everything will be much easier, and you’ll be able to do more things.’”

His eyes flicker to the cuffs still around his hands. Despite their beauty, all Tommy can feel is contempt and disgust upon looking at them. 

“‘Now, obviously, you will have plans to leave at first. And that’s not a bad thing! You’re obviously terrified, after all, and that happens. It is, however, the wrong thing. The gods will be kind to you, because you’re new, and being in a new environment can be scary! And that’s okay. After a while, you may be conflicted with leaving.’

“‘My suggestion? Leaving really isn’t worth it. Why escape when there’s so much you can lose from it? Staying in Avalon, here, where your ideas will be valued, and your life will be mattered, is so much better. Believe me, I did try to leave. And then my own guardian god revealed to me the truth that I’ve been shrouded from, and I’ve been happy here ever since.’”

Tommy knows he’s not as smart as some of the other people he knows. But even he can put together some of the puzzle pieces when they’re right in front of him.

He’s been in exile. He knows what’s happening. He knows what will happen. And he knows what had happened before.

“Fucking hell!” he swears, fisting his hands in his clothes. He isn’t sure whether he wants to rip them or use them to ground himself, but it doesn’t matter either way; Dream and George are far more than human, and they would’ve taken precautions to even the little things like this. “That son of a motherfucking bitch!”

Whoever wrote this book, whoever ‘Ash’ is — they’ve clearly been brainwashed or something. Manipulated, probably. Mind control is a possibility too. They probably tried to escape, and most likely failed.

_“Because at the very least, you’ll get hurt less.”_

Did Fundy try to escape too? Did he get hurt by it?

Tommy groans again, snapping the book shut. It’s just been one stressful thing to another stressful thing. He doesn’t want any of this. He’s getting it anyways.

If he wants to even have a chance at escape, he’ll have to make sure that Dream and George don’t think he’ll be able to do anything. He’ll have to be their little doll, then. He’ll have to listen to them.

It’s humiliating, and Tommy already wants to throw up at the thought of even following what either of them say, but he can’t risk getting hurt. He can’t risk not returning back home.

Not when Tubbo’s still alive.

A sharp knock on the door startles him, and he puts the book on the bed as he nears the door. “Yeah?!”

“Sir, His Grace has called for you,” someone — probably a servant — says. “You are to return to your studies now. His Grace has allowed me to lead you back to the study room.”

“Fine,” Tommy says. He pushes the door open, and finds himself looking at the back of a servant’s head. “You don’t have to bow, you know? I’m not fucking prissy or anything.”

“Of course not, sir,” the servant still doesn’t lift their head. With a sigh, he turns and starts going down the way he had come from, fully aware of the gaze tracking his every move.

Creepy.


	8. ‘cause everytime you strip away my pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Aphrodite by RINI
> 
> check end notes for why I only updated after so long!! but anyways here is the 8th chapter and,,,, uhhhh I’ll let you decide for yourself?

George had said that he had to leave soon after calling a servant for Tommy.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

“...and obviously, I tried to back out of the conversation, because I didn’t want to start a fight there,” George rambles on, one arm casually thrown around Fundy’s shoulder. Fundy nods and adds on little quips that make George smile, but for the most part, he stays quiet.

The doors slam open, much to Fundy’s secret relief, and Tommy strolls in. He looks a little more angrier than before, and that anger only becomes more visible when he spots George.

“What are you doing here?” Tommy asks, disgust evident in his voice. Fundy quietly untangles himself from George’s grip as the older stands up.

“Taking, what else?” George asks with boredom.

“A lot of things, actually,” Tommy mutters, and okay, Fundy has to do something before this escalates.

“That was quick,” he says with a small smile. “Right, I think we should continue our lessons now, yeah?”

“Pay attention, Tomathy,” George warns, but Tommy only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“I know, bitch,” he says, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Now could you just leave already? I don’t need to see your ugly ass face more than I-”

“Tommy,” Fundy interrupts. He steps frontwards and lays a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. George, you should go. I don’t think your guests would want you to be later.”

George’s eyes soften. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll see you tonight, dearest. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Fundy responds in turn, though it doesn’t sound convincing to his ears. George seems convinced enough, though, because he leaves, and the doors close behind him.

Fundy takes a deep breath in. “Right!” he says with false cheeriness, pushing Tommy to the table. “Let’s continue, shall we? Would you like to start with politics or etiquette?”

Tommy frowns, mouth curling downwards. 

“Did something happen?” Fundy asks him. “Is there something wrong?”

For a moment, it almost seems like Tommy’s going to tell him. The younger opens his mouth, before clamping it close. “Nothing,” he mutters.

Fundy frowns, but he can’t exactly get answers out of him now, so he sits down, and asks the question again. “Would you like to start with politics or etiquette?”

“...politics.”

“Alright. Right, the basics of politics…”

“You should grow out your hair sometime,” George tells him casually, after they have eaten dinner. He and George had gone back to bed, while Tommy was ushered back to his own room. Dream was nowhere to be found, since he had to finalise a few information with other gods. “Your hair’s getting quite long, isn’t it? I think you should let it grow longer.”

Fundy hums. He doesn’t want to grow out his hair; it reminds him too much about a part of him that he’d rather leave behind, and it’s a pain to take care of. 

“How much longer?”

“About here, I think,” George runs his hands to his waist, and Fundy involuntarily giggles at the slight tickle that he gets. “I think you’d look beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Of course! When would I ever lie to you?”

‘All the time,’ Fundy thinks, but he doesn’t dare voice his thoughts out. Instead, he sighs.

Fundy _really_ doesn’t want to grow out his hair. But it’s not like he has any say in the matter, especially not after what happened last time when he had snipped off his hair against George and Dream’s wishes a few… a long time back. Besides, if he doesn’t look in any mirrors for too long, he can avoid the feelings that come with it, right?

“I guess,” Fundy says. George chuckles softly, and Fundy melts when he feels hands running through his hair. There’s a lot of shitty things about the situation he’s gotten himself into, but the worst part has to be that Fundy _likes_ the touch. He leans into George’s hands, sighing softly at the comfort that his hands bring.

“You like that, darling?” he hears him ask, and nods.

“Mh. Soft,” he murmurs, sinking deeper into the warmth that seems to make up the atmosphere. “Like it.”

There's a chuckle. “I’m glad, love. You must be really tired, aren’t you? Would you want to head to bed now? I know Dream wouldn’t mind.”

Fundy shakes his head. “I’m awake,” he says insistently, even though both of them know that he isn’t.

“Right, of course you are,” Fundy lets himself be manhandled higher onto the bed. “You’re such a sleepy fox right now. _My_ sleepy little fox.”

He shivers at the possessiveness that coats the older’s voice. George mistakes it for being cold, because he coos, and disappears from Fundy’s view.

“Just stay there for a while, my darling, and don’t fall asleep on me now,” he chuckles. “You still have to get dressed in nicer clothes.”

Fundy drifts in and out of sleep. He feels his clothes being changed, and he tenses up as George slides a soft shirt over his body, the cloth brushing against his injury. He had almost forgotten about it, what with everything that’s been going on — up until now, that is.

“It’s alright, love,” he hears him say softly. “It’s just me. There’s nothing to fear, you’re safe here.”

Eventually, George finishes changing him, and Fundy feels himself being shifted until he is lying down next to George. A blanket is laid over him, and he distantly notes that it feels different.

“Blanket?” he asks, his voice nothing but a whisper.

“Dream changed it,” George responds. “It’s comfier, isn’t it? I think he decided to get a new one for your comfort… and your back, that is. Is it better for you?”

“...yeah.”

“That’s good. If you want to change it, just tell me or Dream, yeah? We only want the best for you, sweetheart, so you shouldn’t be selfish, alright? Fundy?”

“Yeah,” Fundy replies, yawning. He doesn’t want to continue this train of conversation right now, not when he’s feeling somewhat happy and tired, so he tries to turn the conversation to something else. “...why won’t you want to grow your own hair longer?”

“Well, because it wouldn’t be as pretty,” George hums. “Believe me, love, I’ve tried it, and it didn’t work. You, on the other hand? You’re perfect. Gorgeous.”

“Mhmm.”

“There’s so much I could do with your longer hair,” he hears George say. “You’d look absolutely wonderful with a flower braid, darling. I was thinking maybe yellow and red flowers, to match your pretty hair. I could tie your hair in so many ways too; there’s so many braids I’ve read about, and I think some of them would make you pop out, you know? Anyways, speaking about that…”

Fundy is asleep before he hears the next part, drifting into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. I was originally going to update this earlier, but I went through a mini writer’s block, and by the time I got over that situation (by putting out another story), the whole drama with fundy happened, and I kinda got conflicted and wanted to wait for his response and stuff
> 
> but anyways yeah that’s the explanation. haha sooooo uhh yeah!

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so sorry. 
> 
> none of this is supposed to be healthy in any way. there is nothing romantic (other than background fundywastaken/fundywasfound) about this, and there is absolutely nothing healthy or sane about this.
> 
> please don’t show this to any ccs!! not that anyone would want to lmao, but just in case!


End file.
